Spiritual Direction

Thursday, August 7, 2025

August Squatters

 


Phantoms zip by
quieter than owls’ wings
quicker than flickers of shadow
against the dawn.

Catching the morning light
dust motes circle above the hay
on air currents disturbed
by invisible guests.

Discarded feathers and bits of eggshell
resting on the old concrete floor
beneath a beam are a clue.
The goats and I are not alone.
Barn swallows have returned.





Saturday, July 19, 2025

Jewels

 


My cat's eyes are like topaz flecked
  with garnets.
I never noticed until
one day I stopped 
  and stared.
I wondered how 
  such wonder
should go unnoticed.

I glanced into the garden
and spotted
  that crimson
in princess feather plumes
and frying peppers
  and tomatoes.

Can we ever get enough
  of beauty?



Friday, July 11, 2025

A Quiet Clearing in the Vile Clamor *


Where young cardinals
sample creamy hydrangea blossoms

where baby red-winged blackbirds
splash in shady spots

where plump bumblebees burrow
into hostas' fragrant flowers

where sneaky squirrels steal sour fruit
from the ancient apple tree

where black swallowtails float
above purple phlox

where sphinx moths sip from beebalm
the color of raspberry wine

where the garden beckons
offering herself to all.


* Title courtesy of Stephen Berg


Thursday, July 3, 2025

All I Can Offer

 I am out of words today. Weighed down with grief, I watch as the powerful betray everyone else, and words of resilience and hope are not ready at hand. Thankfully, I have a garden and live among the wild ones who come to share it. It is with both, who have no notion of a nation’s struggle, that my mind can momentarily rest.

Today, instead of words, here are glimpses of the gifts that are still here, waiting to be noticed.

                              Haas Halo Wild Hydrangea a magnet for pollinators



                                       Raspberry Wine Bee Balm



                           Butterfly Weed, host for Monarchs


    

                      Cleome or spider flower, one of the few plants
                                  garden predators do not touch     

            


                          Zinnias and the first sunflower of the season




                          Abundance in the (fenced) vegetable garden



                          Swamp milkweed, bees and beetles




                          Black swallowtail young feeding on rue




Tuesday, June 24, 2025

Intimately Acquainted

 



"O God, you have searched me and you know me."

 As the vixen screams in the darkeness from the field across the road
I acknowledge the gift I've been given.

As the red-headed woodpecker calls from a black locust in the back woods
I realize I have been heard.

As tree swallows swoop above waving meadow grasses
for a moment I am living in Eden.

As the oriole's sweet song floats from the treetops
I lift my own quiet song of thanksgiving.

As the catbird chatters into the evening
I know I am where I belong, after all.

"O God, you have searched me and you know me.
Such knowledge is too wonderful for me to comprehend."
                                                             Psalm 139





Sunday, June 8, 2025

Somewhere an Owl


In the distance a barred owl sings
to the dark of a summer night
calling to his mate
or offspring.
Or perhaps he announces to the world
he is still here.
As are you.

Take courage.
Take heart.

The day will dawn when we can rest.




Saturday, May 31, 2025

Resilience

 



The April freeze was not unexpected.
The ancient apple tree's white cloud
darkened to tan
by morning.

Yet her life blood flowed
and her limbs were strong
and in the alchemy
of her intention
new buds formed
and opened one by one.

The bees
returned.